


Lazy Summer Afternoons

by akire_yta



Series: prompt ficlets [522]
Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 21:43:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13280442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akire_yta/pseuds/akire_yta
Summary: navigatorsnorth askedThe echo of a summer afternoon





	Lazy Summer Afternoons

Grandma stood on the porch of the ranch, looking out as the sunset painted the desert a thousand different shades of red, breathing in deeply the scents of sun-baked dust and the distance smell of jetfuel that was almost omnipresent in their lives.

Years ago, it was horses and sweat that were the dominant themes of the ranch.  It was still a working ranch when the boys were small, just.  It didn’t rain here enough anymore to support cattle; even the coyotes that ran through the scrub looked rangier and stringier every year.  But back then there were still patches of green, enough to justify a small herd, a couple of hired hands to run it now Lucy had her hands full with a growing posse of her own.

Then the boys had grown up, and the rains went, and the hired hands moved on to better work.  Even the stables were empty now except for some old junk and few mouldy wisps of hay.

But back then, the house and this yard would be alive with people.  There would be the smell of the barbecue firing up, the whinny of the horses as they were fed one last time for the evening.  Summer evenings were long on the edge of the desert; she wonders if any of the boys remember playing out here as the adults ate and drank and told tall stories until the dark chased them all to bed, ready for another dawn.

Grandma closed her eyes, and listened for the faint echo of children at play, workers like friends just shooting the breeze, even the distant sound of the horses.  But there was nothing by the rustle of the breeze in the stumpy dry grass.

Grandma watched the sun set until it was fully dark.  The dry desert air whisked away any moisture, leaving only the faintest hint of salt on her cheeks.  She turned her back on the stars as they emerged from the night and went to find her boys.


End file.
